


Shoot The Dog

by dashloid



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Gap Filler, Gen, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashloid/pseuds/dashloid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Roxy didn't shoot her dog either?</p>
<p>A one-shot alternative/gap filling version of the final Kingsman test.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot The Dog

_“This weapon is live.”_

Merlin gives her a standard Kingsman pistol. The handle is warm – either he’s been waiting in the room for too long holding the gun, or he’s been carrying it around in his hand. There’s something unnatural about the temperature, weapons shouldn’t have it. That kind of lingering warmth is for cozy things – books, cups, borrowed coats. A weapon should be cold and impersonal.

As cold, as Merlin’s studying look when he says “ _Shoot the dog._ ”

Anyone else would look at the target, or point at it at least. Merlin is here to see Roxy’s reaction, record it like a scientist, the dog is merely a detail.

She aims at the poodle almost automatically, guilt already rising in her chest in a hot acidic wave. It would be easier if it was personal, it would be easier if they gave her the order and let her go, if only for an hour, let her pet the dog’s curly head once more, play fetch, go for a run, anything. As a flimsy proof, if not for the dog, then for herself, that she’s not a killing machine ready to destroy without any preparation.

_“The weapon is live.”_ It was so unnecessary for him to point out that the weapon is live, if “shoot the dog” was his next line. It was _unnecessary_ -

She turns her whole body and aims the gun at Merlin. Not a muscle in his face moves. She thought so.

Roxy’s thought process is frantic, yet observant, a rushed crowd of mathematical thoughts. The “Shit!” in the earpiece during the parachute test, a panicked exlamation, unfitting for the cold-blooded exterior Merlin usually presents. The fact that Eggsy _did_ have a parachute... The retractable rails at the train test. _Kingsman wouldn’t waste a life._ Not without a flinch at least. So there must be _something_ about this test too. "The weapon is live", right. There’s only one fault to the hypothesis, and she needs to check.

Roxy aims at the painting behind Merlin, a somber oversized portrait in an elaborate gilded frame. If she’s right, nothing bad happens, and if she’s wrong, at least Kingsman pays for the ruined decoration. She pulls the trigger and the gunshot roars, leaving a ringing after-sound. Her poodle rears up and gives a small yelp, too well-trained to bark. Merlin winces – finally – and frowns, either at the gun blast, or at Roxy trying to bend the rules. The portrait sustains no damage.

“Blanks.”

“Blanks,” Merlin has to agree, a note of worry in his voice.

“Is that supposed to test our loyalty?”

“Yes.”

“To whom?”

The corners of his mouth twitch in a suppressed smile, but he’s not looking at her anymore, his eyes are darting left and right scanning the carpet absent-mindedly, like he’s trying to come up with a plan, and he needs to do it fast. He taps the clipboard abruptly, shuffles some files around, slides his hand over the screen, pauses, and mumbles “ _Shit_ , Eggsy.”

Then he looks back at Roxy.

“Right now Arthur thinks that you _did_ shoot the dog,” Merlin says quietly, as if Arthur is about to peek into the room, summoned by the mention of his name alone, “I’d really prefer if he kept thinking that.”

***

He paces on the balcony, cigarette dangling from a corner of his mouth, a trail of smoke following him around. Roxy never gave it a thought that a Kingsman agent could be a smoker. Now it seems natural that of all agents the smoker is Merlin.

“Technically, you both failed. _Lancelot_.”

She clenches her jaw.

“But Eggsy nearly had a breakdown.” He gestures at the vast park surrounding the mansion, and when Roxy looks, there’s a cab in the distance, heading away. “In front of Arthur! And he never shot. With you, Arthur heard a gunshot.” He draws on the cigarette, pauses, breathes out a stream of thick smoke.

She doesn’t say anything, standing at attention, soldier-like, and waits for him to clarify.

“You’re the only candidate who didn’t fuck up publically. I cleaned up the camera logs, just in case Arthur decides to have a look. For the whole day, all of the HQ, server failure, so it looks normal. You’re off the hook.”

She waits a little bit more, just to check if there’s a catch. A tasteless “you owe me”. There must be something.

“But you know what I think?”

“What do you think?” she answers tensely, but with a challenge, a Lancelot already.

“You _both_ deserved a place.” He leans on the banister and shakes the ash on the ground below. “Ah, this is fucking sad.”

It’s a simple line, but of all things, it admits a fault in the system, and it’s more honesty than one could ever expect in the agency. Roxy nods, walks to the banister too, and looks down, leaning on it a few steps away from Merlin.  They watch the ash saunter down for a while.

“I only have one question,” she says, tapping her shoe on the stone floor lightly.

“Mhhm?” he watches the cab disappear in the distance, a final farewell look.

“What _really_ happened to Amelia in the water tank?”

He looks at her in surprise, and then a crooked smile grows on his face. “Oh. _Well done_ , Lancelot.”


End file.
